Beaches

i did not grow up on beaches
like you did:

i felt not the crinkling of lake sand
in my brittle feet,
nor have waves ever been
my childhood dreams

i was raised on a mixture
of concrete and corn:
a cultivation fertilized by
smoke stacks and scrap metal

my waves were gray
and my poetic discovery came in the form
of pink slips and "CLOSED" signs

unlike your clear blue washings
my baths were brown-murky
and taken from runoff from the makings
of the lower-middle class

i had no lake effect snow -
instead my angels were made
to look tan from the asphalt scrapings
from speeding cars
and broken shards of beer bottles
in the ditch in front of my yard

whereas you were blue, i was gray

while you were West i was here
thinking of crisp clear waves

anything but the gray